The Winds of War

When the winds of warning are bound to change,

When all is lost, when all is grey,

When lives have been lost and even the strange,

Are forced to live in a world of the sane.

Where none is good and all is bad,

Of mercy and misery everything is mad,

This is a story of life and whats left,

This is a story about the final test.

Good and bad, what really does it mean?

Is there a line we can pick between?

When did an act become labelled as such?

When did we become such a fiddled old bunch?

From burning fires, to heavenly gates,

Does life have to be defined by our actions and our fate?

The winds are warning, blowing true,

from here to there, to that way too.

As sharp as a knife, as light as a feather,

can you feel it on your skin?

The winds are warning, whispering words,

Can you hear it?

Can you see it?

Do you care to know the truth?

If the world was to swear, on all things good and bad,

That not one person would be different,

I think the world might just be a little bit sad.

Because secretly we groan and gossip,

Looking at the latest freak,

But when we find the sheep's that are left,

Life might look a little bit bleak.

I ask you this as I ask myself,

When did we take up a war with ourselves?